


At the Games of the XXX Olympiad

by runthegamut (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-20
Updated: 2008-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/runthegamut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the year 2012 and the Olympics are taking place in London. Patrick is the goalie for the U.S. water polo team and Mikey competes in swimming. Also features the rest of My Chemical Romance, Brian Schechter, and Bob McLynn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Games of the XXX Olympiad

Patrick adjusted the knot of his tie, looking up into the stands in awe as the continuous flash of thousands of cameras blinded him. The host country’s team had just entered the stadium, and the roar of the crowd was deafening. Patrick could see Bob’s lips moving and Ray smiling wide back at him, but he couldn’t make out what was being said.

Turning away, Patrick scanned the crowd, thinking back to how he’d gotten there. His chest felt tight and he reached up to tug at his tie again, even though he knew it wasn’t causing the discomfort. He’d always been proud to represent his country, even in a minor sport like water polo, but he was caught off guard by the intensity of his emotions.

Something caught in his line of vision and he turned back to his teammates. There was a guy about twenty feet away that he could just make out as the crowd of people shifted on the field. The guy had his chin tilted up and was squinting from behind his glasses, searching the stands. His mouth was hanging open slightly, and he looked as bewildered by the situation as Patrick felt.

Patrick wasn’t sure why, but something in his gut told him this was important. He was trying to discern if he knew him from somewhere, if he looked familiar, when Bob stepped up behind him and dropped his head down level with Patrick’s, staring intently in the same direction.

Patrick turned to look back at Bob, startled by his sudden presence, but Bob was just nodding slowly as he looked in the direction Patrick had been staring. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a grin as he looked sideways at Patrick and knocked their shoulders together companionably before standing up straight again.

“Stump!” he heard Ray call. “Dude, wake up! You’re gonna miss the torch lighting!” Ray was pointing at the cauldron at the far end of the stadium with one hand, a camera poised in his other.

“Come on, Patrick,” Bob said, voice gruff as he clamped his hand on Patrick’s shoulder and turned him in the direction of the action. “You can daydream later. Just no jerking off if I’m in the room.”

Patrick turned back one last time to look for the thin guy with the messy hair, but he had disappeared back into the sea of people.

***

The room in the Olympic village wasn’t quite the digs at the Ritz Carlton, but it wasn‘t bad either. They had internet access, which Patrick was really happy about. His leg was tucked underneath him on the bed as he pulled his laptop open, eager to get in contact with friends back home.

“Dude, I can’t believe you just dumped all your shit in a drawer,” Bob chuckled, carefully looking through his own dresser. “I got, like, the messiest guy on the team as a roommate.”

Patrick looked up from his email, amused. His method of unpacking had consisted of pulling open one drawer and dumping the contents of his suitcase inside, before sliding it closed. “What? I’m efficient, Bryar. And everything’s in one place. I’m a simple guy.”

Bob snorted and rolled his eyes as he pulled a pair of pajama bottoms from the drawer. “Yeah, right. Simple and messy.” He was smiling, though.

“You’re just mad you’re not rooming with Toro,” Patrick teased, ducking reflexively before Bob even picked up a balled up pair of socks and chucked them at Patrick’s head.

“Dude, you better have faster reflexes than that in three days,” Bob chuckled. “I totally could have scored on you just now.”

Patrick set his computer on the bed and folded his arms across his chest defensively. “You know, if this was a match, you wouldn’t be standing three feet above me on solid ground while I was sitting in front of the goal. You’d be treading water in the fucking pool and your mouth would be hanging open as I blocked your shot like nothing in the world was easier.”

“Yeah? I fucking _hope_ so, Stump. Shit, you better be able to block every shot that comes near you. I don’t want to have to take your job back.” Bob winked at Patrick and turned back to organizing his belongings.

Bob had been a goalie once too, but he was so good at being stealthy, getting away with fouls underwater that Coach McLynn moved him out to the perimeter when Patrick came on the team. Bob and Patrick seemed to understand each other better than most of the guys on the team, and Patrick wondered if it wasn’t some sort of connection from having played the same position, being the last guy between the ball and the goal.

The phone rang, and Bob moved swiftly to answer it, cradling the receiver between his shoulder and ear. “Yeah,” he said in greeting, turning and leaning against the dresser. Patrick could tell from the careful expression Bob was wearing that it was Ray on the phone. Bob looked down at his watch and then back up. “Uh, yeah, hang on.” Dropping the phone to his chest to muffle the receiver, Bob looked at Patrick, eyebrows raised. “Hey, I’m gonna go out for a bit. Will you be up later? I don’t want to wake you up when I get back in.”

Patrick wasn’t used to the time change yet and although he should have been settling down to sleep, his mind was too occupied with thoughts of opening ceremonies and their first match in a few days to get any rest yet. “Yeah, I’ll be up,” he assured Bob, picking his laptop back up to reply to Joe’s email.

“Be down in two,” Bob said into the phone before hanging up. “Thanks, man,” Bob said to Patrick, raising his chin in a quick motion.

“No problem,” Patrick replied. He wished he had someone to go meet and take his mind off of things with.

As Bob grabbed his keys and exited the room, Patrick leaned back against the headboard, the events of earlier replaying in his mind. He remembered Bob’s caution about jerking off and was suddenly glad to be alone, popping open the fly of his pants to take advantage of the privacy.

***

The dining hall could accommodate 5,000 of the 17,000 athletes housed in the Olympic Village at any given time, which is why Patrick was surprised to notice the guy from opening ceremonies sitting a couple tables away with his back to him. Patrick’s eyes were trained on him as he slowly ate his sandwich.

“Hey, Patrick,” Ray said happily as he dropped his tray to the table in front of Patrick. He jerked his head to look at Ray, who was smiling wide. Patrick was pretty sure he knew why, but he didn’t want to think about what Bob and Ray were doing the night before.

“Off in LaLa Land again?” Bob questioned as he climbed over the bench to sit next to Ray. Bob looked over his shoulder in the guy’s direction before turning back to Patrick. “Oh,” he said with a hint of mischievousness in his eyes.

“What?” Ray asked, eyes wide as he looked from Bob to Patrick and then over his shoulder, trying to figure out what Bob had noticed. “What’s going on?”

Bob just smirked at Patrick and said nothing. “It’s… I don’t know, it’s nothing,” Patrick tried. “That guy over there looks familiar or something. I don’t know.” He shrugged, because it wasn’t a big deal, really.

Ray turned around again and craned his neck as he tried to figure out who Patrick was talking about. “Who?” he asked loudly. “Which guy?”

“Shhh,” Bob hissed. “You’re going to embarrass Stump.”

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Patrick sighed. “You’re not going to embarrass me, Ray. Ignore him.” A slight flush crept over his cheeks anyway.

“That guy over there?” Ray called out, gesturing now. As if on cue, the guy in question turned and looked back at them. He looked completely disinterested in the scene Ray was creating, his eyes scanning past their table and continuing across the cafeteria. Patrick noticed he was wearing ear buds.

Bob pressed a hand on Ray’s arm and pushed it back down. “Dude, you’re as subtle as a heart attack,” Bob laughed, shaking his head. “Patrick likes the guy, but he’s not ready to call attention to himself yet. Chill.”

“I do not!” Patrick said a little too emphatically. “I just… I don’t know. Something about him is interesting.”

Bob and Ray exchanged looks, but before either could say anything, Frank Iero was leaping over the bench on Patrick’s side of the table, landing half on Patrick. “Hey guys!” Frank yelled, and Patrick was grateful for the distraction.

A round of insults was exchanged, and the topic of conversation changed. Patrick determinedly did not look in the thin guy’s direction again the rest of the meal, barely noticing his slouching walk up to the conveyor belt to return his tray, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. Patrick flushed reflexively and dropped his eyes to his empty tray.

***

Patrick guessed the guy was a swimmer or a diver. This didn’t really take any great deductive reasoning skills. He was on the bus to the aquatic center with Patrick.

Coach McLynn wanted them to get a practice in before their first match so he’d pulled himself out of bed and boarded the bus at what felt like much earlier than the 8 a.m. their clock indicated it was. Sitting next to Bob, half awake, Patrick noticed the thin figure amble up the narrow bus stairs, a large duffle bag hung over his shoulder. He looked half asleep, and he pretty obviously hadn’t run a brush through hair when he’d awakened.

Ray was the one who’d figured out who he was. “Mikey Way,” he hissed as he leaned over the seat toward Patrick. “He’s competing in the 100 backstroke.”

“Who?” Frank wondered from his seat next to Ray, turning around to get in on the conversation. Bob punched the back of Frank’s seat, and Frank took the hint, turning forward and sinking back down.

Patrick stared at Ray for a moment as he processed the information. “How did you find that out?” he asked at last.

Ray grinned, proud of himself. “I have my sources,” he said with a satisfied nod before turning back around.

Patrick looked at Bob, who gave him a half shrug. “What? You like him. Like we’re not going to find out about him for you?”

Patrick feigned being irritated as he rolled his head toward the bus window, watching London pass by. _Mikey Way_ , he thought to himself, his stomach tightening slightly.

***

Gerard waited for him by the locker room. Mikey was staring down at the floor, lost in his own thoughts as he rounded the corner into the hallway leading to the locker rooms, when Gerard called out. Mikey jerked his head up and tugged his earbuds from his ears as his finger slid over the pause button on his iPod.

“Hey, Gerard,” Mikey replied, smiling wide at his brother. He hadn’t seen him since before the Opening Ceremony and having him there calmed his nerves immediately.

Gerard pulled Mikey into an embrace, patting him on the back. “Hey, how are you doing? Holding together okay? Did you sleep at all last night? Get enough to eat?”

Mikey kept his eyes downcast as he nodded, swallowing down a lump that had materialized in his throat. He really wished Gerard could stay with him in the Olympic Village, but it was athletes only. “Yeah, I’m doing okay,” he answered, his voice masking his nervousness.

Gerard knew him too well though, arching an eyebrow as he regarded Mikey carefully. “What’s going on?” he questioned.

Shrugging, Mikey looked about, anywhere but at Gerard. “I’m fine, just… it’s nerve-wracking. I wish my event was on the first day, not the eighth, you know?” He raised his eyes to meet Gerard’s as Gerard gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Just hang in there, Mikey. Try to keep your mind off of it. Did you need some more comics to read? I’ve got more in my suitcase I can bring you,” Gerard offered.

Mikey Gave a slight shrug. “No, it’s hard to focus on the words. I’m just listening to music and…” His voice trailed off as he watched the men’s water polo team file into the locker room, the short one with the ever-present hat shooting a discreet look at him as he passed.

Gerard raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. “And…?” he prompted, trying to refocus Mikey’s attention.

“Um. That guy. Who just walked by? He looks at me a lot. I keep catching him,” Mikey explained when the hall was empty again.

“Who? What guy?” Gerard asked, whirling around and then back again. “What do you mean he’s looking at you? Looking at you _how_?” His voice was getting louder as he narrowed his eyes.

“Like, I think he likes me,” Mikey replied, sounding confused. He’d seen Patrick and his friend staring at him during the opening ceremonies, and then the guy with the crazy hair had been pointing at him in the cafeteria the next day. Again on the bus this morning, Mikey had noticed him staring. He didn’t mind; it was just unusual.

“Oh,” Gerard replied, studying Mikey. He shifted in his place, obviously uncomfortable. “Um, so you’re going to get in the pool today?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Coach Schechter said you’re just doing an easy warm up of 2000 meters, then ten 100s at seventy percent, and then a 2000 meter cool down.”

Mikey grinned at his brother. “Oh, is that what Coach Schechter said?” he questioned, his voice teasing. “You should really apply for an assistant coaching position, Gerard. You spend almost as much time at the pool as I do, and you don’t even get wet.”

It was Gerard’s turn to look away, but Mikey caught the unmistakable blush. “Whatever, you’re my brother and I support you and your dream, okay? Shut up.”

“What about _your_ dream?” Mikey asked, hitching his bag up slightly as he cocked his hip to the side. “The one in which you fall into Brian’s arms and he whisks you away?” he teased.

“Shut up,” Gerard repeated, “and go get changed.” He turned and headed down the hall in the opposite direction, raising his hand and flicking his wrist dismissively. Mikey rolled his eyes and wished Gerard would just get laid already.

***

Patrick wasn’t sure if he was relieved or grateful that the water polo pool was separate from the swimming and diving area of the aquatics center. They even had separate locker rooms. He figured Mikey was in the water now, wearing two or three old Speedos as he warmed up. He wished he could have seen that, but at the same time, his own suit was barely big enough to contain him when he wasn’t ogling lanky swimmers.

Like all water polo players, Patrick had begun his career as a competitive swimmer, joining the local age group team when he was seven. He had taken lessons that summer and made it through all five levels in a two week period. His instructors told his mom he was a natural and gave him the coach’s number.

He was a good swimmer, solid on distance events, though not much of a sprinter. The monotony of the practices got to him, though. One day as a reward, his coach had made a couple improvised ‘goals’ with kickboards on either side of the diving well and told them they were going to play water polo. It was exhilarating, and his leg strength allowed him to tread water easily. He found he could get his upper body up higher in the water than his teammates too, when he kicked hard. He was short, but his broad shoulders and chest gave him ample reach in front of a goal and worked well for blocking. He traded individual swimming for the team atmosphere of water polo and never looked back.

“Aw, _fuck_ , Toro!” Bob laughed, snapping Patrick’s attention over to where Ray had pulled his cap on before tying his hair up. The cap was flat against his skull while his mess of curls puffed out at the bottom. “You look like fucking Bozo the clown like that! What the fuck?”

“I’m _sorry_!” Ray yelled, clearly sensitive about the situation. “I forgot to bring a hair tie. Just… fuck off.” He frowned as he furiously tried to push his hair up into his cap to hide it.

“Toro!” Coach McLynn bellowed. “There will be no forgetting a hair tie for competition. Do I need to bring a caboodle of hair ties with me tomorrow?”

“No, coach, I’ve got it,” Ray mumbled as he glared at Bob.

“What the fuck is a caboodle?” Bob snickered quietly to Patrick, causing Patrick to laugh in response. Bob McLynn was an odd guy.

Patrick pulled on his red cap and dove into the pool along with his teammates. They did a few lazy laps to warm up their muscles before scrimmaging. Everyone had been tense and the exercise loosened them up. By the end of practice, they were functioning as a cohesive team. Patrick toweled off and tried not to think about tomorrow.

***

Mikey kicked his feet up on top of the desk as he tipped his chair back, clutching his phone to his ear.

“Coach Schechter says…” Gerard began for at least the twentieth time during the call, and Mikey rolled his eyes.

“It’s so obvious you’re in love with him,” Mikey sighed.

There was silence on the other end of the line before Gerard asked, “What?” and Mikey couldn’t suppress an eyeroll.

“You are so obviously in love with Brian Schechter, I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed,” Mikey said, picking at a thread on the knee of his pants.

“I, I am not!” Gerard argued. “I just. Look, I care about your career, Mikey! Someone needs to help you out and mom’s not here so… I am not!” His voice was edging on shrill. Mikey wondered how it was possible Gerard was older than him.

“Whatever.” Mikey paused before grinning as he pulled the phone closer to his mouth. “You totally want in his pants.” Gerard was always good for free entertainment, he thought.

“Mikey…” Gerard sighed heavily and Mikey could picture him pressing his fingers against his eyes. “Is it that obvious? Really?”

“Yeah,” Mikey answered without hesitation. “To me it is. Every time he calls me ‘Way,’ you practically tackle him thinking he’s asking for you.”

“Shit,” Gerard grumbled. “But you don’t think he knows it?”

Mikey was thoughtful for a moment. “No, I don’t think so,” he said at last. “I think he’s too focused on the competition to notice.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing,” Gerard answered, and Mikey knew what he meant. It was easier to have someone reject you if you didn’t actually have to put yourself out there, bluntly state your interest.

“Look, just tell him at the end of this, okay? If you don’t I will,” Mikey threatened half-heartedly.

Gerard sighed. “Yeah, yeah, maybe. Hey, what about the guy who looks at you? Uh, are you doing anything about that?” He asked, again changing the subject. Mikey smiled knowing the only thing more uncomfortable for Gerard than discussing his little brother’s love life was discussing his own.

“I think I’m going to the water polo match tomorrow to see him play,” Mikey confessed, giving a small shrug even though Gerard couldn’t see him.

“Water polo player, huh? They still have tickets available for that?”

“I have my ways,” Mikey grinned.

Gerard chuckled on the other end of the call. “Yeah, I know you do. You catch some sleep and I’ll talk to you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, love you,” Mikey replied and ended the call.

***

Mikey sat bent over, knees tucked to his chest, arms draped loosely around his legs as he watched the game. The United States was an underdog, but somehow they managed to outscore (or out-block) Germany seven to three. Mikey hadn’t really watched a water polo match before, but he was impressed by the way the players worked together, passing the ball around and then handing it off to the little tattooed guy who stayed in front of the net, so he could shoot the ball before the thirty seconds on the clock expired and possession turned over.

Mostly, Mikey watched the goalie, who the program informed him was named Patrick Stump. He kept low in the water, treading it so steadily that Mikey would have believed he was standing on the bottom of the pool if he hadn’t known the pool was more than ten feet deep. When possession of the ball changed and Germany took a shot, Patrick would dive to the side, pop out of the water, knock it away. He smiled to himself each time Patrick made a block.

At the end of the game, Mikey quickly exited the arena and was about to get back on the bus to return to the Olympic Village when he decided to delay his departure by stopping to check on the swimmers who had events the same day.

When Mikey finally boarded the bus back, the U.S. water polo team was already seated in the back, clustered together and laughing uproariously as they watched Patrick pace up and down the aisle. “See, the plan for this match is, we’re going to score more points than the other team,” Patrick barked in a deep voice. “And by so doing, we will defeat them. This is my plan to win, and it is foolproof.”

Mikey took his seat and observed as Patrick gesticulated and carried on loudly. “Toro? Where’s Toro?” He spun around comically, looking at the players until he located the one with the wild, curly hair. “Toro, I got you a caboodle of hair ties here. Why? Because I’m Bob McLynn and that’s what I do.”

“Greatest coach ever!” Someone called out, bringing a hardy “Here, here!” from the men.

Patrick put his hands on his hips and spun back toward the front of the bus, his eye catching Mikey’s stare and he faltered a moment, breaking character as the shock of Mikey’s presence on the bus and his attention hit him. Mikey saw Patrick do a quick double take before Patrick resumed his production. He raised his voice louder, trying to push the idea of Mikey watching him from his mind.

As the bus pulled from the stop, Patrick plopped down in a seat next to Bob, his face flushed as he tried to calm his nerves.

“You okay?” Bob, asked, peering up toward the front of the bus where Mikey was sitting.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” Patrick said, slightly breathless from the impersonation.

“Had more of an audience than you bargained for?” Bob questioned, nodding toward Mikey who turned and looked over his shoulder as if he could feel their eyes on him.

“Uh, yeah,” Patrick replied, reaching a hand up under his hat and smoothing back his hair. “He’s not swimming ‘til Saturday so I wonder what he came down here for.”

Bob looked amused as he smiled back at Patrick. “Memorizing someone’s event schedule?” he teased. “Maybe he did the same. Maybe he came to see you play,” Bob offered.

“Nah,” Patrick answered, dismissing the idea. “Probably watching someone swim.”

Bob shrugged. “Could be. You gonna talk to him ever or just keep staring awkwardly at each other?”

Patrick looked up in Mikey’s direction again, just catching his eye before Mikey turned away. “Eh, I don’t know. I saw him hugging some guy yesterday, so I think maybe he has a boyfriend.”

“Dude,” Bob chuckled. “That could mean anything. Iero’s always hugging me. Doesn’t mean we’re dating, you know?” At that, Ray turned and looked at Bob from across the aisle, studying him a minute before turning away.

“Yeah, I guess,” Patrick mumbled, pulling the brim of his hat down low as he sunk down in his seat. He tilted his head to the side slightly so he could still see Mikey up the aisle.

Mikey looked back three more times during the ten-minute ride back to their building. Patrick met his gaze each time.

***

Mikey couldn’t sleep Monday night. He felt like a coiled spring, the tension from the Olympics overwhelming him. Because he had nothing else to do when he found himself awake again at 7 a.m., he decided to go to the pool.

He wouldn’t have been surprised to find Gerard there, except for the fact Gerard was less of a morning person than he was. Yet there he was, standing on the deck next to Coach Schechter and holding his clip board. Mikey raised an eyebrow at Gerard as he tossed his towel onto the bench.

“Morning, Gerard,” Mikey said, trying to suppress a smile. Gerard’s eyes widened slightly, his nostrils flaring as he gave Mikey a warning look. “Nice clipboard,” he added.

Before Gerard could say anything or choke Mikey, the coach turned and greeted Mikey. “Way! Come to swim off your race anxiety?” he asked as he took the whistle from his mouth. “Hop on in lane 7 with Hurley and Mixon, 1500 easy.”

Mikey took his glasses off and set them on his towel before pulling on his prescription goggles. “Yeah, ‘kay,” he nodded.

“Oh, and Gerard?” Brian leaned over into Gerard’s personal space and pointed to a blank spot on his notes. “Can you take splits for me on lane two? Here,” he said, pressing a stop watch into Gerard’s hand before returning the whistle to his mouth and giving a shrill blow. “Five 200s on the 2:30!” he shouted.

Mikey raised his eyebrows at Gerard who just ducked his head and nodded, looking at the stopwatch. “Have fun, Gerard,” Mikey said quietly before padding his way to lane seven and diving in.

***

The workout was easy, but it was just what Mikey needed. He liked the solitude that swimming afforded him. It was time alone without distraction, when all he had to focus on was the way the water moved under his hand and whatever thoughts filled his head.

He found himself thinking of Patrick, how he seemed so calm in the pool until a shot was made and Patrick would spring to life and execute a block so precisely. He thought of himself and his race on Saturday, visualized the way his body would curl up against the block before exploding out in an arc, dipping underwater, his legs snapping as he kicked from his midsection. Mikey thought of the way the water slipped over his skin, of skin sliding against skin, of skin sliding against skin in the water. By the end of practice, he just wanted to be alone and jerk off.

When Mikey returned to his room, he was relieved to find his roommate had gone out, leaving a note stating he had gone to watch cycling events for the afternoon.

***

The team’s second water polo match was against Serbia, and they weren’t supposed to win. They did, barely, a miracle shot by Ray in the last quarter giving them the edge and a lucky save by Patrick keeping them out of overtime and a dreaded penalty shoot out to determine the winner.

“Fuck, I wish I could go out for a drink,” Bob groused in the locker room as he pulled on his pants. “I just want to kick back and celebrate, but this every other day of play thing is really getting in the way.”

Frank snorted with his shirt halfway over his head. “You’d rather _lose_ , Bryar?”

“Fuck no,” Bob shot back. “I’m just saying, I wish I could have a beer, you know? I just… need a release.”

Patrick noticed as Ray looked up at Bob from the bench he was sitting on, tying his shoes. Bob looked down at Ray, eyelids heavy and lips parted slightly. Patrick felt like he was invading a private moment and turned back to his locker, clearing his throat. “I get what you mean, Bob. Sometimes you just need something to break all the tension.” Pulling his hat over his head and slamming the locker shut, Patrick turned back around. “I think I’m gonna drop off my bag in the room and then go out for a bit. You know, get some fresh air, see London.”

Ray smiled slightly up at Bob, whose eyes went wide. “Yeah? Man, I can carry your bag up to the room if you don’t want to mess with going back there,” he offered, in what Patrick imagined was an attempt to sound casual.

“Oh, yeah? That’s really nice of you,” Patrick replied with a smile. Shit, if Patrick had someone he could fool around with, he’d want Bob to extend him the same courtesy, even if Bob and Ray were pretending like nothing was going on between them.

***

Mikey had watched the United States beat Serbia on television that afternoon. Apparently the Serbians were crazy about water polo and the tickets were going for more than Mikey could afford. He’d called Gerard to see if he’d wanted to watch the match with him over the phone, but as it turned out, Gerard was volunteering his assistant services at the pool again.

“Mikey, I’m sorry, but he asked me and I…”

“It’s cool,” Mikey had answered, cutting him off. He hated the guilty tone Gerard’s voice took on when he tried to justify doing something he wanted to do, rather than something Mikey wanted to do. “I’m just going to hang out here and watch television, maybe try to escape for a bit to get a meal somewhere besides the cafeteria.”

“Not McDonald’s…” Gerard scolded.

“But Gerard, it tastes like home,” Mikey laughed.

“And sits in your stomach like a brick. You’re only three days way from your preliminary,” Gerard reminded him.

“I know! I know!” Mikey laughed, as if there was any way he could forget. “Have fun with coaching and I’ll catch up with you later. Text me if he kisses you.”

“Gotta go, love you, bye,” Gerard responded quickly before hanging up.

After watching the United States claim victory, Mikey decided to wander around. Lost in his own thoughts, he soon found himself outside the Olympic Village and wandering around Stratford. He glanced at shops as he strolled the streets, hands buried deep in his pockets. The farther he wandered, the more he realized the tension among the athletes living in the Olympic Village was palpable.

Mikey’s stomach began to rumble as he turned down a side street, the smell of food wafting toward him. He followed the scent, and found himself in front of a pub, reading the menu posted outside.

“Smells really fucking good, doesn’t it?” Patrick ventured, stepping beside Mikey and staring straight ahead at the sign.

Mikey’s stomach jumped in surprise, but he willed his expression to remain neutral. “It does,” he agreed. “I’m so sick of that crap in the cafeteria.”

The tension in Patrick’s shoulders relaxed slightly as Mikey responded instead of running away. “Yeah, it’s not like the food is even bad, it’s just… so typical of cafeteria food. Like, how many times can YOU eat turkey and mashed potatoes before you never want to see it again?” He shuddered slightly as he made a face.

Mikey grinned slightly at that, nodding his head. “I know. I’d kill for some real food. It’s almost making me wish the Olympics were over, and I haven’t even competed yet.”

Patrick folded his arms across his chest and turned toward Mikey. “Well, that’s not acceptable,” he teased. “I think it’s my duty as a citizen of the country you represent to buy you a meal so you can compete.” Sucking in a deep breath, Patrick motioned his head toward the pub. “Shall we?”

Mikey’s smile spread wider. “Well, I can’t really say no to that, can I?” he replied. “Where would our country be without its third fastest 100-meter backstroker competing on Saturday?”

“The foundation of our civilization would crumble,” Patrick said seriously, nodding. “I’m Patrick, by the way,” he added, offering his hand.

Mikey laughed and extended his hand to meet Patrick’s, giving it a quick shake. “Mikey,” he said, letting his fingers linger curled around Patrick’s hand for an extra few seconds before releasing it.

Patrick felt his face go red as he turned toward the building, his hand still warm from the touch. “Well then,” he said, taking another deep breath and bounding up the stairs, holding open the door for Mikey to enter. 

***

It wasn’t the best meal Patrick had ever had in his life, but it felt like it. Partly, it was the result of eating the bland cafeteria fare for nearly a week. Mostly, it was the company. Mikey was funny, if dry, and he laughed at Patrick’s jokes. They could talk about the pressure of competing at an international level and understand each other.

“So how did you end up over here instead of the village?” Mikey asked as they finished their meals, leaning over and swiping a chip from Patrick’s plate and eating it with a smile. Patrick watched Mikey’s hand move across his plate and registered the familiarity the gesture encompassed. “You didn’t set out to find a poor starving American swimmer. In search of the perfect pub meal?” Mikey asked.

“Actually, I was trying to give my roommate some privacy with his boyfriend. Or… I think they’re in a relationship. I guess I’m not sure,” Patrick replied, raising one shoulder and letting it fall. Bob was pretty private about personal matters, and Patrick wasn’t one to pry.

Mikey nodded as he wiped his mouth and fingers on his napkin before tossing it on to his plate. “My brother is in love with my coach,” he stated, staring ahead.

“Seriously?” Patrick asked as he raised his glass to his lips and took a quick sip. “Does your coach know?”

Mikey gave two quick shrugs and reached in his back pocket for his wallet. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so. Gerard’s… well, he’s pretty shy when it comes to stuff like that. Sometimes you just need to go for it.”

Patrick stared at his empty plate for a minute, thinking. “Oh, hey, I’ve got that,” Patrick said suddenly as he noticed Mikey pulling money from his wallet. He laid his hand over Mikey’s forearm as he shook his head. “No, no, it’s my treat. I offered. Saving civilization, remember?”

Mikey tensed under Patrick’s touch, his palm on the bare skin of Mikey’s arm. “Um. Yeah, okay,” he agreed, slowly replacing the money in his wallet. “I’ll make it up to you,” he decided.

“Next time,” Patrick agreed, hoping there was a next time.

Patrick and Mikey sauntered back to the village in a comfortable silence. When they reached the lobby of the residence building, they stopped and looked at each other for a moment. Patrick wasn’t sure what to do, if he should shake Mikey’s hand or give him a hug or more. Instead he stood awkwardly, looking at Mikey’s feet.

“So,” he said at last, raising his head to look at Mikey and giving him a smile.

“So,” Mikey said cautiously, looking at Patrick, his eyes widened.

“Uh, see you around, then,” Patrick replied, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, see you around.” Mikey furrowed his brow in confusion as Patrick bounded off toward the stairwell up to his room. He stood there another moment before pulling his phone from his pocket and texting Gerard while he waited for the elevator.

‘Thought guys werent sposed to be complicated,” he sent.

“Fuck,” was Gerard’s reply.

***

Patrick stood in front of the door to his room, wondering if he should knock or give some kind of warning before entering. A few hours had passed since he’d left to go explore the area, but he harbored some fear that maybe Bob and Ray had fallen asleep in bed and unclothed. Patrick settled for rattling the doorknob three times as if to make sure it was unlocked before entering slowly.

“Hey,” he said when he found Bob lying on top of his bed watching television, the bed still made. “Uh, how are you?” Patrick wondered.

Bob slowly turned his head to see his roommate. “Oh, hey Patrick. ‘Sup?”

Patrick walked into the room carefully, glancing about to see if Ray was hiding somewhere. Seeing Bob was alone, Patrick frowned. “Uh, not much. Walked around, looked at some stores, had dinner with Mikey.” He threw his keys on top of his dresser before sinking down to the bed.

Bob sat up and smiled. “Dinner with Mikey? What the fuck, man. Did you have a date arranged and hold out on me?”

Patrick laughed nervously, tipping his hat back to run his fingers through his hair. “No, I just kind of… stumbled upon him in front of a pub and offered to buy him dinner.” Patrick shrugged. “It was just a meal, not like a date or anything.”

“No, shit,” Bob said in amazement. “Patrick Stump, I think you’re way smoother than you give yourself credit for. Buying someone dinner is a date, dude.”

Patrick cringed and shook his head. “Uh, not really. Dates usually end with some sort of physical contact and… this did not so…”

“Well, how did it end?” Bob wondered, pushing himself to the edge of the bed and leaning over, forearms supporting him on his knees.

“…I told him I’d see him around?” Patrick looked at Bob sadly.

Bob rubbed a weary hand over his face and shook his head as he moaned. “Patrick…” he started.

“What?” Patrick demanded, crossing his arms. “Dude. I paid for dinner, we walked back here, there was silence, so I said goodnight and left? Fuck. What did you want me to do?”

“You _paid for his dinner_ ,” Bob stated, his tone incredulous. “Man, you definitely had a date. And the silence? Yeah, that was the part where you were supposed to kiss him. Jesus, fuck.”

“No, no,” Patrick said, his voice pitching upward. “I said, ‘So,’ and he looked at me all freaked out like I was going to kiss him and he didn’t want me to.” Patrick crossed his arms tighter across his chest, his thumbs hooking into his armpits.

“You…” Bob sighed loudly. “You said, ‘So’? What the fuck is that about? Who does that?” Bob laughed roughly in a manner that meant he didn’t find it funny at all. “Of course he looked at you weird. Dude, he was expecting you to kiss him or… or _something_.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Patrick mumbled, dropping back to lay on his bed. “You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

“Yeah, whatever, man,” Bob retorted. “Believe what you want.”

Patrick laid staring at the ceiling replaying the scene in the lobby. He wished he wasn’t so stupid about these things.

***

Mikey’s phone rang as soon as he reached his room. “Hey,” he answered, feeling drained.

“I tried to kiss him,” Gerard spit out.

Mikey’s eyes went comically wide. “You what?” he practically yelled, wide awake now.

“Coach Schechter. Brian. I tried to kiss Brian,” Gerard repeated.

“Yeah, Gerard. I kind of figured out the _who_ , so why don’t you tell me what happened,” Mikey answered, tugging on his earlobe.

Gerard took a deep breath. “We… well, it was after the events were all finished with and we were collecting all his stuff and getting ready to go. Coach Sch—Brian was talking about how much he believed in the team and how much potential you have and I was like… I don’t even know. It kind of moved me.”

Mikey gaped in horror. “So you tried to kiss him?” he cried.

“No! Mikey, no! If I tried to kiss him while he was talking about my brother that would be a little weird, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Mikey replied quickly. “It really would.”

“Right, so then he tells me how much he’s appreciated my help this week, and even the last few weeks since trials, you know, and he’s really glad I’m here. And… shit, Mikey. He was looking at me with his eyes all wide and sincere and I just… I don’t know. I thought it meant something.”

Mikey listened quietly. “So you tried to kiss him,” he supplied. “And?”

Gerard let out a frustrated sigh. “And I leaned forward, closed my eyes, and then he was gone,” he said, sounding dejected.

“Shit,” Mikey answered, not really having an answer to that.

“Yeah,” Gerard replied, resigned. “So distract me from the fact I just made a complete fool of myself. What happened to you?”

Mikey took a deep breath. “I went for a walk and Patrick ended up buying me dinner,” he explained.

“How is that a bad thing?” Gerard wondered.

“He _didn’t_ try to kiss me,” Mikey said.

“Oh,” Gerard said quietly.

“Right,” Mikey replied.

***

“Hey,” Bob said the next morning as he stepped out of the bathroom, skin still pink from his shower. “I’m sorry about last night, man. I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

Patrick frowned and shook his head sadly as he looked away from the television screen. “Nah, it’s cool. I can be an idiot with that stuff. You’re probably right. I probably should have kissed him.”

Bob gave Patrick a sympathetic look. “Hey, there’s lots of reasons to be unsure about that sort of thing. I get it. Trying to read someone’s signals is hard. And, like, public displays of affection… it can be awkward.” He swallowed hard and looked down. “I mean, it’s none of my business, so I shouldn’t have razzed you about it. I was just… I was kind of uptight last night.”

“I thought—“ Patrick caught himself before he said anything about unwinding with Ray. “I mean, that’s too bad. I was hoping having some time to yourself would let you come down a bit,” he said cautiously.

“I was hoping so too,” Bob grumbled, running his toe over a spot on the carpet. He looked up and out the window, his face etched in sadness. Patrick’s chest tightened and he wished he could ask about Ray.

***

Mikey went down to the pool on Thursday to give Gerard morale support. He was still pretty shaken up by what happened, or didn’t happen, and Mikey agreed to sit on the bench with Gerard and cheer on the other swimmers.

For his part, Brian acted exactly the same as always. He greeted Mikey warmly when he arrived. He flailed his arms and screamed during the heats his swimmers competed in. He leaned in too close to Gerard to check the splits that Gerard dutifully recorded on Brian’s clip board.

“The fuck?” Mikey asked after Brian walked away from them, having just draped his arm around Gerard’s shoulder while talking to one of the swimmers.

“I know, right?” Gerard sputtered, the frustration evident in his voice.

***

Friday was the biggest competition in Patrick’s life. The match against Hungary, the top ranked team, began promptly at noon. They got to the pool at 8. There were no swimming events scheduled for the day, and the building in general was unnaturally quiet as they arrived. Patrick was thankful, though, that there was no chance of him running into Mikey. He could concentrate on the game.

The team played with heart, Coach McLynn would say later, but they were defeated in the fourth half when a shot sailed into the upper right corner of the goal and Patrick’s fingers were just a second too slow getting there. There were missed shots by everyone, but Patrick was pretty sure he’d forever remember the way the air rushed past his hand as the shot sailed just out of his reach.

Patrick untied his cap and tossed it onto the deck, submerging himself in the water--loss of body heat in the tepid water cooling him immediately. When he surfaced, Bob was standing on the deck above him, looking down sternly. “Hey,” he said.

Patrick swallowed hard as he tried to meet Bob’s eyes. “Hey,” Patrick said back sadly.

“Stump? Listen to me,” Bob began as he crouched down by the side of the pool. “You played a stellar fucking game today and you should be proud of yourself.” Patrick started to roll his eyes when he saw Bob’s jaw clench. “Seriously. I could have never played that well if I’d stayed in your position. I know how you are, man, and I’m telling you not to beat yourself up. You played great. This whole Olympics, you’ve been great.”

Patrick exhaled slowly as he looked down and nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I just… I’m kind of processing it all,” he explained.

Bob looked at Patrick for a moment like he was considering whether he’d argue the point. “Yeah, okay. Look. We’re all going down to a pub tonight and we’re going to get ridiculously drunk and sing loudly and probably, generally act like assholes. You in?”

The corner of Patrick’s mouth quirked up in a smile as he listened to Bob. “Well, when you put it like that, it’s pretty fucking enticing, Bryar. Just let me cool down here for a bit and I’ll catch up with you later?”

Bob considered it a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that’s cool,” he agreed. “I’ll have my phone with me. You have the number.” Bob stood up again and pointed down at Patrick. “Chin up, Stump. I’m fucking proud of you.”

Patrick smiled as he watched Bob grab his stuff and follow the rest of his team out of the pool. He pushed off the wall on his back and took a few lazy strokes, his eyes following a beam on the ceiling. He thought of Mikey and his race the next day and his sadness felt like it settled into his bones.

***

Mikey needed to get into the water. It was less than twenty-four hours until he competed and he was nervous as hell. In addition, he knew Patrick was playing today and he didn’t want to sit in his hotel room, biting his non-existent fingernails over it. There were no swimming events scheduled that day, so he figured it wouldn’t be a big deal to get in the water.

The pool was locked, but luckily one of the security guards knew Gerard and believed him to be an assistant coach. The guard agreed to let them into the pool area when Gerard concocted some story about Mikey losing his prescription goggles and needing to be let into the pool to look for them. Gerard promised they’d be no longer than 45 minutes.

It wasn’t a long swim, but it still felt good. Mikey’s muscles felt loose and relaxed, and he was able to push all other thoughts from his head for the short time he was in the water. He even forgot about the water polo match going on in another part of the building, just concentrating on smooth movements gliding through the water.

When he pulled himself from the pool, Gerard was right there for him with a towel. “Feel better?” he asked and Mikey nodded and meant it.

“Head clear,” he assured his brother. “I just want it to be tomorrow already so I can swim the best race of my life.”

Gerard smiled and put his arm on the small of his back, directing him to the locker room. “Alright. Let’s get out of here before we get in trouble,” Gerard replied.

***

Patrick hastily toweled himself off before throwing his towel over one shoulder. He paused just outside the locker room door that adjoined the water polo venue, hearing boisterous voices coming from inside. He felt better now, but he still wasn’t in the mood to celebrate yet. He glanced back over his shoulder at the exit to the hallway and considered the second locker room in the building, the one that would be unoccupied today.

“Fuck it,” Patrick muttered as he grabbed his bag and made his way out into the hallway. The air was devoid of the humidity that clung in the pool area and he shivered, his nipples raising from the cold. He hurriedly made it down the hall and prayed the locker room would be open as he tugged at the door.

Mikey was seated on a bench, still in his suit as Gerard leaned against the lockers. They both jerked their head to the side as they heard the door open, Mikey scrambling to his feet as he expected the security guard from earlier to step inside.

Patrick turned the corner and came face to face with Mikey and a guy he presumed to be Mikey’s brother. His stomach twisted sharply, but he was too shocked to make his legs turn around and take him out of the room. “Uh… I’m just gonna…” He gestured toward the showers before rushing past them, his eyes closing as he cursed his luck.

Mikey turned and stared open-mouthed at Gerard as he tried to make sense of Patrick’s presence. Gerard stared back at Mikey and then looked in the direction of the showers. “Go,” he said firmly. “I’ll watch the door in case the guard gets back.” Before Mikey could argue, Gerard hurried out of the locker room.

Mikey heard the shower turn on, and he forced himself to move toward the noise. Patrick’s bag was discarded near the tiled shower floor, his towel tossed atop it. He stood directly in the shower spray with his hands splayed against the wall, the water running down the top of his head before skirting over his body.

Steam was billowing up from the shower as Patrick stood still, his eyes closed. He seemed unaware of Mikey’s presence.

“Um…” Mikey said tentatively as loud as he could make his voice go.

It was loud enough and Patrick jerked a few steps backward, wiping the water from his eyes. He pushed his hair back from his face as he stared at Mikey, seeing him clad in only his Speedo for the first time. It sat dangerously low on his hips, his hop bones almost entirely protruding and under the outline of his abs was the start of a trail of hair.

Patrick stared at Mikey. Mikey stared back, neither moving. Finally, Mikey glanced back over his shoulder like he was considering leaving. Patrick thought of Mikey’s own words about his brother’s predicament: “Sometimes you just need to go for it.” He thought about what Bob said about the silence being the part where Patrick was supposed to kiss Mikey. Before he could second-guess himself, Patrick closed the distance between them and angled his head up at Mikey, hoping to find his lips as he closed his hand around the back of Mikey’s neck, guiding him down.

Mikey didn’t hesitate as he leaned in and met Patrick’s lips with his own, kissing him squarely on the mouth. Patrick’s momentum carried forward, and he set his free hand on Mikey’s hip, turning Mikey and pushing him up against the cool tile of the shower wall. Mikey inhaled sharply as he made contact, but didn’t make a motion to move his head away. Instead, he draped his arms around Patrick’s waist and pulled him closer, his lips parting slightly as he touched his tongue to Patrick’s lower lip.

Patrick made a startled noise and dropped his jaw open to meet Mikey’s tongue with his own, sliding it over Mikey’s and into his mouth. Mikey hummed in approval, and Patrick scrambled up on his toes to reach Mikey better. As if reading his mind, Mikey sunk down the wall slightly until they were even with each other, their tongues running around each other as Patrick’s hand slid up from Mikey’s hip, following the contour of his body.

Patrick pressed his hips against Mikey, his cock hard against Mikey’s hip and Mikey bucked up in response, rubbing his own erection against Patrick. “Fuck,” Patrick hissed as he pulled back from Mikey’s mouth and began kissing down the long line of Mikey’s neck, nipping lightly as he went.

Mikey pressed his palms against Patrick’s back, his fingers curling into Patrick’s skin. Patrick slid his hand across Mikey’s chest and found his nipple, pinching it as Mikey moaned in response. Encouraged, Patrick lowered his mouth to Mikey’s nipple, sucking at it before catching the hard flesh between his teeth and gently tugging on it.

Mikey slid his fingers into Patrick’s hair, a low strangled sound emanating from his throat and causing Patrick’s cock to jerk in response. Patrick quickly moved to repeat the action on Mikey’s other nipple and Mikey thrust his hips forward, groaning for want of contact. Tipping his head back, his eyes closed and lips parted, Mikey whispered, “Please. Please, Patrick.”

Patrick stepped back and Mikey’s eyes opened as the cool air rushed to fill the area around his body. “C’mere,” Patrick ordered, his fingers encircling Mikey’s wrist and tugging him toward the shower. Once they were both enveloped by the spray, Patrick kissed at Mikey’s jawline until Mikey dropped his mouth, to resume their kiss. Patrick curled his fingers in the waistband of Mikey’s suit and tugged down as Mikey wiggled his hips out of it, his cock springing free of the lycra. Patrick looked down and wrapped his hand around the shaft , giving a few quick strokes as Mikey tensed.

“You too,” Mikey said, voice breathless, nodding down at Patrick’s swimsuit. Patrick let go of Mikey long enough to shove his trunks down his thighs, hastily stepping out of the before wrapping his arm around Mikey’s waist and holding the together, skin to skin, as the hot water soaked in the spaces between them.

Pressing his face in the crook of Mikey’s neck, Patrick panted as he rolled his hips up and against Mikey, his free hand reaching between them to hold their cocks against one another. “Oh god,” Mikey gasped, rocking his hips back, his hands taking firm hold of Patrick’s hips to steady himself.

Patrick tentatively stroked his hand up, fingers curled around the both of them as they moved to rub the undersides against each other. “Soap,” Patrick called and Mikey reached back and squirted a small dot of soap into his palm before reaching between them and rubbing it over the swollen heads, his hand twisting and causing Patrick to yelp.

Pushing up into Patrick’s hand, Mikey spread the liquid soap between them, lubricating their movements more as Patrick fought to keep both cocks in his grasp. The muscles of his stomach tensed as the glided against each other, the friction sending sparks of pleasure though his body.

Mikey snapped his hips in response, trying to get a fuller range of motion as they rubbed together. “Mikey, fuck,” Patrick said, his voice tight as a heavy sensation built in his gut.

“Kiss me,” Mikey begged, and Patrick raised his mouth to meet Mikey’s, Mikey kissing him hungrily as he fucked into Patrick’s hand. Letting out a soft cry, Mikey came, spilling over Patrick’s hand, hot and slick as his head fell back once more.

Patrick buried his face in Mikey’s chest, propping Mikey up with his arm, still tightly clasped around Mikey’s waist. “Mikey, I’m gonna…” Patrick hissed before the waves of his orgasm spread through his body. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out his orgasm, his mouth open as he let out a long exhale.

“Oh shit,” Mikey said softly, his legs buckling. Still supporting him, Patrick followed Mikey down to the floor, and they held each other in a loose embrace as they fought to catch their breath.

“That was…” Patrick said, running out of words.

“Yeah,” Mikey chuckled as they leaned their foreheads together, the water still running down their backs.

“We should get dressed,” Patrick stated. “I mean, after we shower off a little more.”

Mikey nodded, his eyes closed. “Yeah,” he sighed.

“You have to swim tomorrow. You need to rest up,” Patrick continued, nodding.

“And after that?” Mikey asked, pulling back to look at Patrick.

Patrick looked to the side a moment then looked back at Mikey. “We can do this again? Or something like this?”

Mikey laughed, leaning in and catching Patrick’s lower lip between his lips and tugging back on it. “Okay,” he agreed.

***

Patrick caught up with his teammates later, got mostly drunk, and managed not to make too much of an ass out of himself. He wasn’t sure when, but at some point Patrick noticed Bob had disappeared from the pub. When Patrick entered their room later that night to find it dark, he assumed Bob was sleeping off his drunkenness. It wasn’t until Ray said, “Hey, Patrick,” that he realized Bob wasn’t alone.

“Um,” Patrick said, halfway into the room, turning back toward the hall and wondering if he’d just walked into the most uncomfortable situation of his adult life.

“Dude, get in here and shut the door,” Bob complained. “Toro’s naked under here.”

“Oh, like you’re not?” Ray laughed as Patrick let the door close behind him. He stood there awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

“Um,” he tried again.

“It’s cool, Stump,” Bob yawned. “Ray and I are done having sex. For the moment anyway. We have sex sometimes. A lot of the time actually. I’m kind of in love with him.”

“Aw,” Ray exclaimed, and Patrick could hear kissing in the darkness.

“Um,” Patrick said one more time.

“Sorry, man. Is this freaking you out?” Bob asked.

“Well, the idea of you having sex in general and being in love, no, not so much,” Patrick answered. “The idea of you having sex while I’m in the room with you? Yes. That’s disturbing.”

Patrick heard Ray laugh as Bob said, “Sorry, Patrick. I promise we won’t do anything while you’re here, okay? I swear. I swear on my love for Ray Toro.”

“Bob!” Ray said, and Patrick could tell he was smiling. “I love you, too.”

“Wow,” Patrick said. “This is awesome and stuff? But I thought when you guys came out it would be a lot more dramatic.”

Bob chuckled. “Oh, it was dramatic alright,” he replied. “Like two nights ago when—“

“When I gave him an ultimatum,” Ray interrupted.

“I was talking, dude,” Bob murmured. As Patrick’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could vaguely make out Bob moving in some way that caused Ray to squirm.

“Okay, seriously? I’m leaving,” Patrick decided with a chuckle. “Congrats to you both. I’m glad you’re happy. I’m going to go crash at Iero’s place and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Patrick,” Ray called as Patrick opened the door.

Patrick could hear Bob saying, “Mmm, we’ve got a room to ourselves for a whole night,” as the door closed behind him, and Patrick clasped a hand over his eyes to try to fight off the mental image.

When he showed up at Frank’s door, head hung as he looked up at his teammate, Frank just rolled his eyes. “Are they finally out of the closet about their relationship?” he asked. “Well, it’s about fucking time.”

***

Mikey didn’t medal. He didn’t even qualify for the finals, but his time in the preliminary qualified him for the semi-finals, where he swam the fastest time of his life on Sunday. Patrick was there for both races, cheering him on.

When his swim was over, they went out for what qualified as a real date, and Bob repaid Patrick the favor of letting them have the room for the night.

“So you’re from Jersey,” Patrick said in the morning as they laid together, wound in the sheets.

“Mhmm,” Mikey agreed as he nuzzled into Patrick’s neck. “But I go to school at Notre Dame.”

Patrick blinked, pulling back to see Mikey’s face. “Wait, what? Notre Dame? The Notre Dame in South Bend? Indiana?”

“I wasn’t aware there was another,” Mikey laughed.

“No, it’s just... That’s like an hour and a half away from Chicago!” Patrick exclaimed.

“Yep,” Mikey replied happily. “You can see me every weekend.”

***

Gerard took a deep breath as he followed Brian out of the swimming area following the close of events on Sunday night. “Uh, I don’t know that I’ll be back tomorrow,” he started. It was futile to hang around Brian and let himself live in the fantasy of something happening between them. There was no reason to prolong it, he’d decided.

“Why wouldn’t you,” Brian asked, looking perplexed as he slowed to a stop, turning to look at Gerard.

“Well, you know, Mikey’s done with his event, so there’s really no point in me hanging around here and—“

Brian grabbed Gerard by the arm and yanked him forward, catching Gerard’s lips with his own as their faces bumped roughly together. Brian pulled back and then tried again, this time his lips soft and full against Gerard’s, and Gerard couldn’t help his moan as he reciprocated the kiss.

“I thought you were hanging around because you liked me, not just for Mikey,” Brian said as he pulled away.

“I… what?” Gerard blinked furiously as he tried to figure out what was going on. “I mean, yeah. I was. I do.” He narrowed his eyes at Brian. “I tried to kiss you,” he said, stupefied.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to get involved with one of my swimmer’s brothers,” he replied. “Mikey’s done with his event. He’s not my swimmer as of about,” Brian checked his watch, “7:27 tonight. So now I can kiss you.” He smiled at Gerard. “So come back tomorrow? I’ll take you out to eat after we’re done.”

Gerard swallowed and nodded his head, still confused. “Um, yeah. Okay. I’ll do that.”

“Cool,” Brian replied, draping his arm around Gerard as they walked from the building.

***

"We almost missed our flight," Ray argued, his eyes wide as he clicked his seatbelt into place.

Bob rolled his eyes and turned toward Ray from his adjacent seat. "We did not almost miss our flight, Toro. We didn't even come close to missing our flight."

"The ticket said to arrive at the airport _two hours early_ ," Ray replied, leaning forward to pull a paper from his back pocket. "See? Two hours! If there had been a delay at security we would have missed our flight."

Bob tipped his head back against the seat rest and sighed. "Yeah, well, that didn't happen, did it? No, we got here just fine and had to wait at the gate half an hour to board."

Ray sighed back. "I'm just saying…"

"Stump," Bob called across the aisle to where Patrick was sitting. "Any chance you'd want to switch back and be my seatmate?"

Patrick looked over at Bob from his seat in the middle row and then to Mikey, who sat next to him. "Nope. No, I'm good, man," he grinned.

"Yeah, I figured," Bob mumbled, feigning irritation.

Ray raised an eyebrow and studied Bob, smiling slightly.

"What?" Bob asked, smiling back.

"I'm not complaining. I'm just pointing out that we could have missed our flight." Ray reiterated.

Bob smirked back. "But we didn't." He leaned across the arm rest and over into Ray's space. "And I'm pretty sure you would have objected if I'd stopped things so we could arrive at the airport an hour before we could board our flight."

Ray glanced back in the direction of the restrooms. "We could have finished here," he answered in a quiet voice.

Bob sat silently a moment, his eyes traveling back and forth. "You might have a point there," he said at last. "It's a long flight. I'm sure we'll have occasion to, uh, use the facilities."

"Dude, you guys are so fucking horny," Frank's voice came from over the seats. Bob gave the seat in front of him a firm punch. "Ow," Frank whined, followed by a giggle.

"Just jealous, Iero," Bob said before catching Patrick's eye and giving him a wink.

Patrick smiled at his teammate, shifting in his seat as he awaited take off. He leaned over and picked up the iPod that rested upon Mikey's knee, holding it up to see what song was playing.

"Rap?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Mikey grinned back, pulling the earphones free. "It pumps me up," he replied.

"The Olympics are over. What are you getting pumped up for?" Patrick asked as he settled back in his seat.

Mikey sucked his lower lip into his mouth and shrugged on shoulder. "It's a long flight," he replied, his voice low.

Patrick raised his eyebrows as he reached over and slid his hand into Mikey's. He glanced over to where Gerard and Brian sat on the other side of the plane. "Your brother's not going to kick my ass if we both get up to go to the bathroom at the same time?" he questioned.

Mikey turned his head over toward Gerard, who was talking animatedly to Brian, gesturing at a notebook with a pen in hand. "I'm not sure Gerard would notice," he replied.

Patrick leaned in, his head next to Mikey's as he watched Brian smile wide at Gerard, who blushed, dropping his eyes. "He seems pretty happy," Patrick observed, looking at Mikey again.

Mikey turned his head toward Patrick, their noses almost touching. "I think he is," Mikey agreed. "I think they both are."

Patrick nodded, his eyelids heavy. "A happy couple," he added, giving Mikey's hand a squeeze.

"Definitely," Mikey answered. He tilted his head to the side as Patrick leaned in and met his lips.  



End file.
